


The Heart Rules

by Amagifu



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:12:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amagifu/pseuds/Amagifu
Summary: One person's bedtime story may be another person's living history.





	The Heart Rules

"What happened?"

"Dammmit! Where's the éored?"

"Where's Éomer-King?"

"This isn't the the West-Mark!"

Mekille barked through the wild ramblings, her voice harsh from frayed nerves. "Riders! All accounted for?"

"Aye." Chammelle nudged her nervous horse over to stand beside her friend's mount, who fidgeted in place. "But, where in hell are we?"

A long exhale, as horse and rider shook themselves out. "Not hell, I'll wager. Seems too quiet for that."

Jeseasa, and the rest of the group of riders, couldn't stop looking around them in varying states of bewilderment. The horses slowly calmed, still stamping hooves and snorting but no longer on the edge of panic.

Towosh abruptly stopped his study of the landscape and pointed beyond Mekille's shoulder. "Look!"

She whirled her mount around, and let out a wordless shriek as she vaulted out of the saddle. A familiar face in this insanity.

"Gandalf!" 

The wizard leaned on his staff and didn't bother hiding his dismay as the rider jogged up to him. "Under any other circumstances, Mekille, I would say that I am pleased to see you."

She stared at Gandalf, wide-eyed and struggling to ask the questions tripping over her tongue. "Gandalf, where are we? How are you here as well? Why are there so many trees?"

He looked aside with a sigh. "You stand at the western edge of Mirkwood." He then leveled his gaze at her, momentarily quelling her threatening outburst. "But how you and your friends come to be here at this time is quite a different question, and one that has me sorely perplexed."

She gestured expansively, in a bout of frustration. "We don't know! The last I remember, we were riding in the escort party back to Edoras from Dol Amroth. Eomer rode just ahead of us, with Erkenbrand." She paced in front of the wizard, struggling to recall. "There was a shout from the side of the road, and someone in dark clothing leapt out to, I guess do something, I'm not sure. Spook Eomer's horse? Try to separate him from the group? He seemed intent on accosting the Lord of the Mark, but when Erkenbrand and his éored tried to move in to isolate him from Eomer, the guy instead turned on us. It was like he recognized something about us. Maybe he realized we weren't native to the Mark? But he cackled! Right off he began to chant something. I saw a flash of light, felt my stomach try to drop out of my gut, and next thing I know, we're here." She gulped a breath, searching Gandalf's face for any clue. "But why attack us? Why not Éomer? And why fling us here, so far north from the Mark?"

"I fear that attack was indeed aimed at you and the others. And, you are not simply flung north, Mekille."

Before he could continue, a voice from behind her called out, "Gandalf? What's going on?"

Mekille instinctively turned to look, and froze. Behind her, she heard the increasingly agitated murmurings of her companions, echoing the disbelief she felt. She spared only a moment to watch the newcomer, curly-haired, bare-footed, dressed in a blue fur-lined coat, approach them before spinning on her heel to face her fellow riders.

"Not a word!"

"But, Mekille, that's..."

"No!" She paused to listen, as more distant voices were heard, and as she guessed who followed the new arrival she tried to gesture discreetly to her closest compatriots as her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "If we truly are 'when' it appears we are, then we cannot say anything. We must not! God, us simply being here may have already upset these events, and how might that then roll forward to affect Rohan? Or Gondor? Or the Quest? No, friendly though he might be, we cannot risk a stray comment to him."

Vitorrio, closest to her, glanced over her shoulder, paled, and breathed, "To them, you mean. More dangerous than you know, my friend. Be aware."

Mekille started to answer him, but was brought up short by Gandalf's name being called again, this time with authority.

That voice. Deep, rich, brimming with emotions. A voice she had never heard in her waking hours and yet seemed so familiar to her mind. It enveloped her heart and spoke of a tale of reclaiming, at the ultimate cost.

And now, at the edge of this forsaken forest of all places, the sound of that voice filled her with longing and despair, both wrapped tightly around the other and choking her with their intensity and refusing to yield. Releasing a shuddering breath, she gave her friends a desperate glance and slowly turned to look over her shoulder at that voice's owner. Thankful for keeping her Riddermark helm on her head to hide behind, since she blanched and flushed at her first sight of the raven-haired leader of his company, he who she knew would be dead soon enough if circumstances followed what they should.

Should, however, didn't necessarily dictate would. Instantly pierced by fiery blue eyes as the dwarf turned his gaze from the wizard to her, she knew with a cool certainty she was doomed, that despite what she knew of the tale of the days to come she would fight for him to the end, defend him with her life, even if he knew her not at all.


End file.
